


Flowers

by olympiandaydreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, muse!Albus, poet!Scorpius
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 04:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20186038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympiandaydreams/pseuds/olympiandaydreams
Summary: Despite his best efforts, Scorpius Malfoy was always surrounded by flowers. As a child, he loved to spend time in his mother's garden, rolling in the grass and making a scene. Much to his father's disappointment, he had no interest in sitting still or playing piano, he wanted to get his hands dirty, either with fertilizer or with ink. All that changed one winter when he was seventeen. He became nauseous at the thought of the gardens, and he tossed bouquets directly into the trash. He hated the same flowers that flooded his memories and his senses. But Albus Potter, Scorpius's unwitting muse, was intent on changing that.





	Flowers

  
_Dance with the daisies, baby,_  
_ let them raise you like their own,_  
_ Little flower boy._

_Sing with the sunflowers, sweetie_  
_ Let them warm your skin,_  
_ Little flower boy._

<strike> _Roll with..._ </strike>  
<strike> _ Roam with..._ </strike>  
<strike> _ Run in..._ </strike>  


The book landed with a thud in a small pile of white rose petals. White, but wilting and brown around the edges. The irony wasn't lost on the teenager sitting across the room. Death clung to him like a second skin.

"Fuck it." A dozen heads turned to face the boy sitting hunched in the corner. He had stood beside his father to greet mourners for the first hour, but whenever his lip began to tremble, or he rubbed his eyes with his sleeves, the man gave him the same, stern look he wore now. It hadn't taken long for Scorpius to realize hiding out was better; he let people look at him with sympathy, but didn't speak. He couldn't embarrass anyone from the corner. Or so he thought.

His pale skin was red and blotchy. His fingers itched to rub his sleeve over his eyes, to hide from the onlookers. To pretend that losing his mum hadn't turned him into a circus attraction. Something to gawk at and talk over. To pretend his father wasn't glaring at him. But pretending wouldn't fix anything. There would still be a casket, a dead mother, and a million dying flowers dropping their petals on his head.

"Scorpius," His father's voice cut into his thoughts. For a moment, he stared into the older man's face, searching for any hint of emotion, any sign that he was hurting too. Then his lip started trembling again, and he averted his gaze, focusing on the flowers at his feet. God, he hated flowers.

Somewhere in the line of mourners, a woman sighed. Another muttered about how awful it was that a young boy lose his mother. A man cleared his throat. The tension between the boy and his father had the room frozen.

"Why don't you--" he started again.

"I don't want air," Scorpius said flatly, eyes focusing on his journal, lying face down by the wall. He wanted to crawl past the line of mourners and grab it. In these cases, that behavior would be excused. He almost did it, but he didn't want his father to start yelling. Instead, he stayed frozen in his place, eyeing it cautiously, making sure that it wouldn't disappear too.

"Might help you clear your head" Draco pushed. Scorpius knew he was causing too much of a scene. He couldn't help it. He shook his head, little blond curls falling on his forehead.

"No, thank you, Father."

"Fine." The older man let out an exasperated sigh.

Then, things started moving again. Scorpius hated how many people his family knew. Or rather, how many people knew them, or wanted to say they did. The line was already dreadfully long. It seemed like they would be there all night accepting fake thoughts and half condolences from people who didn’t even know his mother. It felt dreadful and wrong.

Once his father turned his back, Scorpius rubbed at his eyes with his sleeves. The material was rough against the raw skin on his cheeks. It stung, but Scorpius was grateful for the burning sensation. He hated it, but at least it was a break from numbness he'd felt for the last few months.

*** * ***

Scorpius first realized something was wrong when they began whispering. Incomplete thoughts and soft sobs overheard from the hall when he snuck down to the kitchen for a midnight snack. In retrospect, Scorpius regretted not abandoning his thoughts of food and pressing his ear to the door. He regretted, not knowing sooner.

"All it will do is worry him," Draco said. It was chilly out, though warm for late November when it had all began. "We shouldn't tell him anything until we're certain…" He'd continued in a hushed tone.

"Draco, he isn't stupid" Astoria hissed. Scorpius could picture her saying so as she flipped through a magazine.

"Well, no one said that, but I don't think there's any reason to upset him yet. We probably have several months left, I just think we should--" Scorpius wanted to stay and hear the rest of the conversation, but it was then that Astoria broke into a sob, drowning out Draco's words. The sound of his mum crying made Scorpius's stomach turn. All desire for food forgotten, he turned and rushed back to his bedroom, letting the door slam shut behind him.

He didn't sleep that night. The sound of Astoria's sobbing played on a loop in his head. That was the night the numbness set in.

The next morning, they pretended things were normal. Astoria cooked breakfast for her boys. Scorpius ate what he could as he ran out the door, and Draco, sipping his coffee, yelled after him about responsibility and being on time. Something they both knew wouldn't happen.

Within a month, the house itself seemed to be dying. Day by day, Astoria's voice grew fainter, and her laugh shorter, then nonexistent. Draco's eyes became heavier, and his scowl more professed whenever he saw his son rushing through the house. By then, Scorpius knew. There were no words left.

"How do you feel about your exams?" Draco asked one morning when Scorpius brought breakfast to Astoria

"Fine." All of his energy went into keeping his voice steady.

"That's good. Study hard. You'll be looking at schools soon enough." Draco paused, straightening his tie in the mirror, "How do you feel about studying in France? Or America?" He suggested.

"Draco," Astoria's voice was a hoarse whisper. He looked over at her, then left without a word.

"He hates me," Scorpius said quietly. He hadn't been to school in several days.

“He doesn't hate you, dear" Astoria rested her hand on her son's cheek. It was cool to the touch. "Go onto school today. You'll be finished soon."

"I don't have to…" Scorpius protested.

"Go," she said again, patting his cheek gently. Scorpius kissed her forehead, giving her a strained smile.

"I'll see you tonight."

"That's good," She leaned back against her pillows, "and Scorpius? Don't take your father too seriously, remember to stop and smell the roses along the way." Scorpius nodded again.

That was the last time he saw her.

*** * ***

"Scorpius? I think you...dropped this."

"Albus?" Scorpius opened his eyes to find the familiar face staring at him.

"I was trying to be nice. You threw it." He said, a vain attempt at a joke. He knew Scorpius hadn't smiled in weeks.

"Thank you," He tied his journal shut with the loose ribbon his mother had tied around a birthday gift several years before.

"Figured you'd want it back...mum said not to bother you," He said, sitting down beside him.

"Maybe I could use some bothering.."

Silence fell over them. Scorpius was never good with words. Albus was the only person he'd consider his friend, and even that was tentative at best. He leaned closer, pressing their arms together.

"I have sweets." He said, voice barely above a whisper. "If you want." His mum had taught him to keep candies around at all times. Who could hate the kid with candy? As it turned out, most everyone, but the habit stuck.

Albus shook his head, watching as his family made their way through the receiving line.

"It's almost finished," he whispered, "There weren't many people behind us.."

"Oh."

"Well, I thought that would be good news," Albus muttered.

"I mean…I don't want to go home" He stood up, shoving his book into his pocket. "It's so quiet there. People sent so many flowers.." he added, not explaining why that was such a bad thing. He looked up at his father, trying to see what he thought as he talked to the Potters. He wondered why they had even come-- if it had anything to do with him.

"Scorpius?"

"Just thinking.." He stood up, brushing his pants off.

"Right, well, I'm sorry." Albus pulled Scorpius into an awkward hug.

"Thanks." He didn't want to let go. But he did. He could feel Albus watching him as he walked to stand beside his father again.

Scorpius rubbed his hands against his eyes again. His face was still red, though it was more of a blush than anything. He glanced over at the Potters. Albus had his hands in his pockets, back hunched over. He said something to his brother--James, Scorpius thought--but he couldn't tell what. It was. Maybe it was a joke, and he was smiling a little. James shoved him, and he stumbled.

Scorpius wondered what it would be like to live Albus's life--to have that family. It seemed so much easier across the room. Of course, looks could be deceiving. He'd lost track of the number of people he'd heard saying the Malfoys were a perfect family.

"Ready?" Draco asked, forcing Scorpius to abandon his fantasy. He nodded. Draco clapped his hand down onto Scorpius's shoulder, making him flinch. He let his father lead him out of the building and to the parking lot. The drive home was silent. The winter air chilled him to the bone, but he didn't complain.

The silence was better than shouting anyways, alone felt better than angry.

"Stop to smell the roses," Scorpius muttered to himself, staring out the window as his father drove.

"What was that?" Draco's somber expression never wavered.

Scorpius shook his head. The words were all he had left. They weren't much to brag about, but they were his.

And that was good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so I hope it's okay. Not too clunky or awkward. 
> 
> I love the idea of Scorpius as a poet because his character has so much to write about! I'm debating Albus being a photographer, or an artist, though I might also leave him as is. 
> 
> This is going to be a pretty slow burn between these boys so be ready for that I guess!
> 
> xx  
Lex


End file.
